Chinatown Chinatown Chinatown.

Where was I?

I've been getting some excessively intent headaches these past few days each morning which blossom very elegantly into migraines come the evening time. This has sort of hindered a lot of my plans to explore the city. But nonetheless, I've tried.

I've been going to the little Chinese 'Paddys Market' pretty much everyday since I first discovered it. It started off with an obsession to find the man with the $10 hippie clothes and then became a thirst for buying little cheap things necessary to my trip. And little cheap things to take back home with me as presents for everyone.

I spent one day walking around the shopping district of the city, George Street, mainly a really long street that cuts right from the Rocks just past Circular Quay, straight down to China Town, and it was one hell of a walk. I did a lot of window shopping, visiting the David Jones and Myer stores, which are large departments stores like House of Frasier or Bloomingdales. I ducked into McDonalds to use their Wifi and bathrooms and treat myself to a delicious frozen raspberry Fanta, but I was careful enough never to order any actual food. The shops were mostly extortionately expensive, so I found myself going into the smaller Chinese shops with their promise of a fifteen dollar rack and nothing over ten bucks. Still, my heart was set on finding clothes exactly like my hippie things I'd bought on the Sunday...

I went to the Sydney Aquarium one day, Sydney's number one attraction, although I find that hard to believe. It was based at Darling Harbour, which is a short Ferry ride away just going a little further down past the Opera House. It reminded me very much of those SeaWorld places that you find by the British seaside, with grubby aged exteriors and cheesy posters outside, but it was still a pleasant way to kill time. There were many fish species and I tried my hardest to read as many of the pieces of information as I could. My favourite fish that I saw were the seahorse, cuttlefish and of course the classic hammerhead shark.

One of the days when there was a spot of sunshine early on in the morning, I chanced it and took the ferry to Manly. The ferry ride itself is something that my free guidebook claims everyone must do whilst in Sydney. It was just another ferry ride, but the passengers were a lot more excited and colourful than on my usual ferry back to Kirribilli. Manly was a pretty cool place. It's a seaside area, with a lot of shops leading down to the 'sea front', which was nothing like a sea front at all. In fact, it was exactly how you'd picture an Aussie beach to be after catching the odd few minutes of Home and Away and Neighbours. The colours of the sea ran deep in a gradient of blues and the sun was scorching hot and baking skin. The sea itself had high crashing waves and there were people out there trying to ride, as well as people learning a little closer to the shore hugging their boards before standing up and being thrown off by a wave just a foot high. The weather held out until around 4pm when you could see the rain distorting the view in the distance, so I had a quick fish and chip dinner before catching the ferry back and foolishly choosing the outdoor seating just as the downpour began. One of the sights that I remember clearly was a group of several yachts, maybe fifteen or so, sailing toward and then right by the ferry, their white canvas contrasting the grey backdrop of Sydney, and so silent, it was eerie as anything.

One of the days at the market, I was cornered by an Asian chap who wanted to give me a free sample of his Thai massage in order to lure me into his stall at the market. I obliged but was horrified when it felt as good as it did. I told him I'd think about it, but by the time I'd slinked my way up the aisle and back down the other, I had to give in. He began with the neck and shoulders as I'd asked, but then told me my back was very tense and needed I'd before I could agree, he began saying only twenty dollar, twenty dollar. He did the same thing with my legs and hips which brought the total up to $35, but before he could start on my arms which "needed it very much", I got up and said no thank you!

Breakfast at the hotel was a delight every morning until the last few, when although the same spread was produced, I was fed up with the same old things at eight o clock every day. They put on a full spread, three kinds of eggs, bacon, sausage, beans, fried tomatoes and then an alternate variation of fried bread, pancakes, quiche or seasoned potatoes. As well as this, there were four types of juice, about seven different breads, several cereals and peaches or a fruit salad and yoghurt. And the best part was it was help yourself to as much as you like. So I did. My huge free breakfast meant that I only had to pay and worry about my evening meal. I tried a local Taiwanese restaurant in Kirribilli, a place in Chinatown where the menu was all in Chinese symbols, a sandwich shop that made the heaviest sandwich I've ever had and a Thai cafe that served some lovely salads. It all 'put me on' as my Dad would say.

Glenferrie Lodge. Outside, other people who were also checking out huddled together under the front shelter bundled up in their waterproofs and commenting on the weather, but rather than put off my impending soaking, I marched out into the rain in my shorts and t-shirt and dragged my suitcase down all of those steps, making my way to the ferry. I was over half an hour early. Being a Sunday the ferry times were different and much less frequent. A girl struggled down the steps with her suitcase and I assumed she was in the same position as me. She commented on our predicament in the weather and we began talking. Her name was Nadia, she was working on her PhD in Geology and had been doing some research in Australia. She was from Colonge and had been staying at Glenferrie for nearly five weeks. We carried on chatting all the way to Circular Quay where we separated as she needed the train, and I wanted the bus.

I managed to find a bus that matched one of the four bus numbers I'd scrawled on my hand which took me to Sydney Central Train Station, but I asked the bus driver just incase. I'd been taking my time, as check in wasn't until the standard time of two o clock. Once I arrived at Central, I believe that the weather had worsened even more. My clothes were more than damp, but I feared for the contents of my suitcase and backpack. The scene was one that wouldn't look out of place with people running and screeching and knocking one another with their umbrellas, but due to my suitcase, I had no choice but to walk, so I did. I took an underpass hoping to be led into the station where I could find an ATM, but it was only around three quarters of the way along it that I realised I was actually going underground to the subway station, which meant steps... When I saw the steps that led up to the Elizabeth Street exit, another piece of tatty information written on my hand to remind me of the correct direction, my heart sank a little. As I hauled my case up the first step with one hand clinging to the handrail, I almost thought that I wouldn't be able to manage it up all of the stairs. But I did luckily.

I still needed that ATM, so I began to walk back towards the station and came across the hostel which was handy. I thought I'd go and ask them where the ATM was and whether I could dump my bag with them until check in. My room was ready, but of course the ATM they insisted I go to was one in the pub they owned attached to the hostel, and of course it charged. I politely said no thank you and then took my things up to my room before leaving in search of a REAL ATM.

The hostel reminds me in many aspects of Habitat. Very bright vibrant wall colours and very clean and uncluttered. There's a lift that takes you up to one of the four floors and you need your keycard to use it. The bathrooms also need the keycard which also stores the information of your gender, so you can't go into the men's and vice versa. There's a lot of posters advertising up coming events and parties and theme nights which makes me think that this is a bit of a party hostel which I'm not sure I'm okay with. My room is room 304, which is a four bed mixed dorm comprising of two bunk beds and four large lockers. The room is very big, very white, with an AC vent in the ceiling and a fair amount of space around the beds for you to dump your things. I can't hear any road noise, but I can hear the music playing on the top floor where the communal lounge and rooftop terrace are, but I'll tell you after tonight whether that annoys me or not! I'm sharing with two girls and one boy but as with all hostels, the people change most days so it's never for long.

(When I nipped to the market, I managed to find my hippie clothing guy at last! I went a little mad and spent forty five bucks on three tops and a skirt, but nevermind).

So I'm here for eleven nights before I head up to Brisbane. Fingers crossed once I settle down and dare to try and mix with the other people here that I'll make some friends as I did in Habitat. Damn Habitat for raising the standards to high.